Rains on Kamino
by halftruthsandhyperbole
Summary: Anakin and Shaak Ti discuss the weather, their padawans, and the life they hope waits for them at the end of the war.


Every time Anakin visited Kamino, he stood in the rain at least once. He lifted his head, eyes closed, as the water fell against his skin and ran in rivulets down his neck and back. It streamed from his robes and from his hair and filled his boots so that he squelched when he walked.

Later, he would pour the water from him, twisting his Jedi robes in both fists. Before, he had shaken the sand from his mouth and his clothes and his feet, peering from his dust-crusted window as the sand storms raged and buried all the things he knew and the things he didn't.

It was silly and sentimental. It had been a long time since he was that little boy on Tatooine, where water was scarce and sacred. And in Coruscant, it did rain and there were fountains and there were rivers and there were baths, but Kamino–

A whole planet made of water.

It never ceased to surprise him because he would always carry the desert and the drought and the thirst inside of him.

The Jedi did not understand. Did he not have water to drink? Did he not know to let go of these needs?

How, he wondered, how?

Someone moved beside him and his eyes opened, slowly. It was Master Shaak Ti, and she stood beside him in the rain. Her robes grew darker, and she stared upwards, her eyes unblinking even when the rain struck them, when the water streamed from her lids and down her cheeks as if she wept.

"Hello, Master Skywalker," she said.

"Master Shaak Ti."

Her robes were completely soaked. The hems dragged in the puddles that formed on the outdoor walkways.

"Did you need something? Is there a battle briefing?"

Shaak Ti turned to face him, and for a brief moment, he understood why the 501st held her in such high regard, understood why they said she valued the life of a clone. Something pained inside him as he remembered the clones that had died, the ones who didn't even make it past a single battle before they were shot down from space or shot down in the streets of an occupied planet.

"I saw you were alone." She said it as if that explained why she was currently getting soaked for no apparent reason. Then she gestured towards the churning waters of the ocean. "The water is beautiful, isn't it?"

Once, on Tatooine, it had rained a misting drizzle that had evaporated before Anakin could even feel it. He stretched out his hand, and watched the rain splash against his palm, watched it fill the creases of his skin like rivers. "This world is strange. There is so much ocean. So much rain."

Shaak Ti nodded. "Sometimes I weary of it."

Anakin nodded. He could understand that. He would not want to be stationed here, even if it wasn't so far from the front lines of the war. He would miss the earth, he knew. He would miss the green things. He would miss those planets that had the vibrant foliage–so pink, so blue, so beautiful.

"How is your padawan, Ahsoka Tano?"

Anakin started, then realized that this was probably the real reason that Shaak Ti had decided to join him. Ahsoka had only been his padawan for a few weeks now, but he already knew that they would get along. They were well matched, he thought, but sometimes the enormity of his responsibility weighed on him.

"She's very talented," he said. "She will be a very strong Jedi."

"Yes, I agree. I brought her to Shili for her rite of passage."

Anakin thought of the headdress that Ahsoka wore. He had known she was a skilled fighter when he had seen it, of course, but that wasn't the only thing that made a great Jedi, though it certainly didn't hurt. Especially in times of war.

"Her skill impressed me, and I hoped a great master would teach her." Shaak Ti looked at him.

Anakin almost rolled his eyes. So this was where the conversation was headed. He may be the chosen one, but there was always someone saying that there was something wrong with him. He could never measure up to the obscene standards that the other Jedi seemed to arbitrarily decide to apply to him. It wasn't fair, he thought dully.

Shaak Ti did not give him time to reply. "I did not agree with the decision to make her your padawan."

Of course she didn't. The Jedi didn't seem to trust him, no matter what he did. This probably was just another test, one that they wanted him to fail. Well, he'd show them.

"Anakin."

He glanced at her, surprised at the informality.

"I think you misunderstand me. They want you to be someone that you are not. Whether you will become the Jedi they believe you to be is not for me to know. How can I know? But I know this. The decision for you to take on a padawan learner should have been your decision. Not something that was thrust upon you. I have never seen such a thing, in all my time as a Jedi. Most request a padawan. But you did not, and yet you have one, whether you wanted one or not. Whether you were ready for one or not."

"I'm ready," Anakin said, maybe too quickly.

Shaak Ti smiled at him, but in that sad gentle way that was uncomfortable. "It is alright if you are not." She turned to face the rain again. "Did you know that I have lost two padawans? Both were killed shortly after they passed their trials and became Jedi Knights." Her mouth turned downwards, and her eyes closed. Her face was wet from the rain.

Anakin reached out to her, but pulled himself back. "I'm sorry."

"I have not taken another, though I have been asked to several times. I was hoping that bringing Padawan Tano to Shili would be a sign that I was ready." She shook her had, her lekku swaying gently from side to side. "But it was only a lesson that I was not."

The rain began to clear, and they could see the clone troopers resume their outdoor drills. They watched them silently for several minutes.

"Maybe after this I will be ready. The clone troopers are my charges. I assist in their training. I am charged with making sure they are prepared for the world that is waiting for them–just as you are preparing Padawan Tano."

"But they're soldiers," Anakin said. "They're going to die–just like." He sighed, and stopped himself. He thought of Rex. He thought of the 501st. He thought of what would happen if Ahsoka died. She would be leading her own squadrons soon–she would need to face that reality, just as he had.

"Just like my padawans." Shaak Ti's eyes closed. He wondered if she was letting these soldiers go before they had even gone. "I train them so that they might live, and to live full lives once this war is finally over." She smiled at him. "Just as you intend for your padawan to live. And she will. Ahsoka will live."

He shook his head at her. "You can't know that. Nobody can know that." But that didn't mean he wouldn't do his best, that he wouldn't try to make sure that Ahsoka would not join the ranks of the fallen, already inscribed on memorial after memorial after memorial.

"I believe."

Anakin almost laughed. "In the Force?" He thought of Qui Gon Jin. He thought of his mother, buried under the sands of Tatooine. He thought of the Jedi who had died in the arena.

"That you will do the right thing, and that you will teach her to do the right thing."

He looked at her for a moment. "But sometimes it's hard to know what that is. Sometimes, it feels impossible."

"I know," Shaak Ti said. "I know."

They stood together and watched the clones drill. The rain had stopped. Anakin felt cold and clammy as he stood beside Shaak Ti. She looked so tired. But she smiled gently when she turned to face him. She pointed to the squadrons.

"Would you like to join me?"

He nodded, and they returned indoors to the lifts, and it whispered them gently downwards. Anakin closed his eyes, felt his belly free fall like flying, and he held his breath as Shaak Ti steadied herself with a deep sigh as the doors opened and there was the flash of laser fire and the bang of soldier's feet.


End file.
